TALES OF DARKER KILLINGBECK

TALES OF DARKER KILLINGBECK

Late one stormy, rainy night, in a shadow-filled corner of the Transylvanian Dog and Duck Inn near the market cross in the village of Darker Killingbeck, a plot is hatched. Several shady characters clutching bottles of Bud and Millar Genuine Draft or pints of Caffreys, Boddingtons and Bloody Marys are huddled together whispering in the gloom.

"Why don't we arf a blog me artys," Suzie, puffing happily on her white clay pipe asks as her eyes dart between her colleagues.
"Hey, that's a really good idea," The two Gordon's nod in stereo. "Good idea that, so it is. Aye it is so it is, eh Stacey. Aye, eh Stacey?"
"Aye, I'm in!" Mar whispers, a red Fez on her head. "Just like that"
"Me tae" Says Sally winking at Suzie and placing a finger to the side of her nose.
"Why don't we vote" Suzie says.

But before anyone could say another word, the door flew open and trawlerman Vincent appeared in the pub.

"There be a wild yun squalling in an albatross eye o' a starm oot ther yonder barman!" He said approaching the bar.
"Is that a pint o'heavy then?" The barman - big Jim Hill - asked frowning and raising his eyebrows.
"That thar o the feeshies doon there happy in Davy Jones lacker ther."
"Whit?" the whole pub says together.
"Aye" Trawlerman Vincent nodded. "A pint of heavy, ur ye deef, tsk, tsk."

Gathering his pint and guarding it jealously while eyeing everyone in the bar suspiciously, Vincent joined the others assembled in the booth in the corner.

Eventually everyone voted to have the blog and the name 'Exile On C Street' was selected. Over the weekend a few rules are introduced. It is only for people who work from the Ayr Careers Centre in Carrick Street, it belongs to all those therein and everyone is entitled to post anything they want and they will all be given the usernname and password to allow them to do this. And, finally Careers Scotland's first office to have a blog of its own is a reality.

"Deepocean thet ye fizzle drylubbers avast me artys!" Suzie announced to the assembled.
"Whit?" They all said together.
"She says isn't it a wonderful idea and she hopes you'll all make good use of it!" Vincent interpreted before downing his pint in one. A cheer went up, Mar ordered "More rum barman, bring it to the table!"

Just as they were about to call business for the night, Father Graeme of St Airyfairy Big Church With The Red Roof and a Rather Pretty Spire (more tea vicar) - across from Darker Killingbeck's Careers Centre, rushed in from the pouring rain, very strange.

Silence fell upon the pub, the juke box turned itself off and Philip completely missed the board with his dart.
"Ere" he mumbled, "That as nivir appened afore."

Father Graeme fell on his knees and pleaded with those in the bar to desist from there wicked ways. Despite his pleas to all those present to repent from blogophany,however, he was ignored and tossed into the sea from the Darker Killingbeck harbour. And, everyone went home happy to face a new day with a new dawn tomorrow.

SERGIO